


Til Death Do Us Part

by Mandergee



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Agents of Shield AU, F/M, October Philinda Challenge, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 11:42:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2427425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mandergee/pseuds/Mandergee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They'd promised another: "For better or worse, til death do us part."</p><p>Neither had known that the 'worse' could be so difficult to bear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Til Death Do Us Part

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the October Philinda Challenge. 
> 
> Prompt: Werewolf AU
> 
> (What I know of werewolves I know from general shows and media. I did no in-depth research, really).
> 
> Also: not betaed, so I apologize for any errors. Should I spot any glaring ones in the future, I shall edit accordingly.

“Did you ever dream about it?”

“A few times,” May admitted, and he listened to the rhythmic scrape of her knife as it ran over what he assumed was another wooden stake- she'd accumulated a stack of several weeks, and when he'd pointed out the lack of effectiveness in his case, she'd scoffed it off and continued producing them. “When I graduated from the Academy. They told stories- what were meant to be horrifying campfire tales for scaring new field agents into following the regulations. Werewolves that howled and tore men apart.”

“But they didn't scare you.” He knew her too well- the fearless, resourceful woman he'd never seen back down from anything. Melinda May was the only person he could depend on when things got out of hand, and as he watched her straddle a chair and toss the freshly sharpened stick into a pile he wondered just how far she would go for him.

“No. Of course not.” She shook her head, stared down at the blade that caught the light and shone like fire. It was silver like the bullets that could kill him, the kind he knew she kept in the gun on her hip and locked in a box beneath the bed at night. When they both slept on the nights before he would turn he imagined them just below the mattress, and dreamt of how they would feel as they pierced his flesh. May would chase away the nightmares with the touch of her hand and the press of her lips on his skin, but the fear would remain even as he'd close his eyes and breathe in the scent of her. “I would mostly dream about being bitten- being turned. I would run through the woods, the wind in my hair, and I felt like I'd never been that free.”

“It's not quite that glamorous.” His wrists itched and he worked fingertips beneath them, scratching viciously at the skin. In the mornings he would rub salve over the red lines that formed overnight, would wince at the cuts and the crust of blood scabbed over them. They'd tried everything- cushioned the metal cuffs with cotton and silk, gel padding- but nothing helped and nothing could be implemented without the chance of his slipping out and breaking free. There was too much danger, and comfort had to be the price he paid to keep safety a priority. “Turning has its moments, but I can't remember the last time I ever had control like that. Since I was bitten- I've had to fight every second of the way.”

“It could be the GH. We don't know that much about it, Phil- it may be the one thing that's causing you to lose control. But that's why we do this. To keep you-”

“Safe. I know.” Safe was a word he'd almost forgotten for a while, one he had distantly remembered as the moon swelled fat and pale outside his window and he'd felt the muscles stretch beneath his skin. Simmons had sewn curtains- from thick fabric with embroidered leaves that reminded him of fall in their dark shades of orange and brown. But he'd shredded them by the end of the first night, been woken by his own whimpers in the depths of a nightmare and curled up in a bed of their scraps on the floor. “And you. You don't have to be here.”

“I know I don't. I want to.” He hated what it did to May the most, he thought. When he'd hear the crack of sinew and bone as he shifted out of control he could always remember the look on her face, the way her eyes would shine with tears as his would brighten and bulge. She'd sworn to him for better or worse and he hadn't thought of worse being anything more than death or despair. Not madness, not anything where he would be forced to keep away from her, to be forced to keep his hands off of her body because he could tear her apart. “I'm not going anywhere.”

It was already starting. The light had begun to dim in the tiny room and he could see it on her face, the brief pass of fear that she so quickly schooled into something no one else would recognize as anything except control. She wrapped her fingers around the hilt of the knife and stepped forward, kissed the tip of her ring finger and reached through the bars to run it gently down his unshaven cheek.

“I'll be here in the morning.”

“You always.....are.” The glint of her wedding ring was the last thing he saw, throwing his head back as the transformation overtook him and the sound of his own voice filled his ears. Three nights he'd be locked down there and she would be with him.

_For better or worse._

_'til death do us part_ .


End file.
